Prisoners
I believe if at that critical moment I had decided it was best we hold the
cave against the foe, regardless of the ultimate consequence, Sergeant
Corney would have done my bidding. But immediately I declared myself
willing to act as he thought best, the old man threw down his rifle, and,
with upraised hands, stepped out from amid the screen of foliage into the
very arms of those who were coming up the slope.
Just for one instant there was in my mind the thought that I might slink
back into the further end of the cave, and possibly escape detection,
unless it so chanced that the savages knew exactly how many were hidden
there. But, fortunately, before there was time to do anything so cowardly,
a realization of what it meant to thus hang back when I had spoken the
words which sent my comrade forward came upon me with full force, and I
followed him so closely that he could not have had any suspicion of that
which, for the merest fraction of time, found lodgment in my heart.
It was too dark for me to see the look of triumph on the faces of our
captors; but I knew they wore such expressions, because of the cries of
satisfaction and shouts of delight which burst from them when we, unarmed,
stood in their midst.
I was satisfied in my own mind that they had seen the trail, even in the
darkness, which had been made when we three entered the cave, or by Jacob
as he went out, and had followed it rather from curiosity than the belief
that white men were in the vicinity.
This idea of mine, although there was in it nothing favoring to us, gave
me no little relief of mind, for it led to the conclusion that Jacob was
yet free.
After the first outburst of rejoicing at having taken two captives at a
time and in a place where they least expected to find them, the Indians
set about securing us in the most businesslike manner.
Some one of the party brought strips of rawhide, by which our hands and
arms were bound tightly to our sides, and with so large a surrounding that
it would have been impossible to escape even had we been unfettered, they
led us down to the village, where we were greeted by the squaws and the
children with fiendish cries of delight.
I knew enough of savage customs to understand that we would be forced to
submit to a certain amount of ill-treatment from the female portion of the
band before the warriors decided upon our fate, and nerved myself to bear
it as best I might, realizing that any show of weakness at such a time
would work to our disadvantage later.
We were tied to a tree, Sergeant Corney on one side and I on the other,
within twenty paces of Thayendanega's lodge, where the light of the
camp-fire shone full upon us.
The braves of the tribe seated themselves in a circle, as if holding a
council to determine our fate, while the squaws and the young boys amused
themselves by holding stout sticks in the fire until one end was a living
coal, and then placing these against our hands, until the pain was so
great that only by summoning all my strength of will could I prevent
myself from screaming.
Even at such a time, when our lives were literally hanging in the balance,
I found somewhat of comfort in the thought that Sergeant Corney was with
me, and not very far away Peter Sitz could probably see us.
It may be difficult to understand why knowledge of that kind should serve
to cheer one at such a horrible moment, and I myself cannot explain it. It
simply remains a fact that I seemed in less danger of being murdered than
if I had been the only prisoner in the encampment.
"It's plain that Jacob was not captured, else we would see him near by,"
Sergeant Corney said to me, and I tried my best to enter into conversation
with him, to the end that I might in some slight degree take my mind from
the torture which, perhaps, was but a foretaste of what I would be forced
to suffer.
"He will be overcome with grief on knowin' that by lingerin' to speak once
more with his father we were captured, an' I fear the lad may be led to
some foolishly reckless move," I said, at the same moment trying to stifle
a groan.
"If he will but stop a moment to rigger the matter out, he'll understand
that only by keepin' clear of this camp can he hope to help us," the old
man replied, and I asked, sharply:
"Do you really believe, sergeant, that any one can aid us now?"
"Tut, tut, lad; do not give yourself up for dead yet awhile. So long as
there's life there's a chance. Peter Sitz has been in the clutches of
these villains many a day, an' yet, 'cordin' to Jacob's story, he's as
sound an' hearty as when he left Cherry Valley."
"Ay; but his life has been saved because Joseph Brant knew him before the
dream of bein' made great sachem of the Six Nations turned that redskin
into the most bloodthirsty of savages."
"Yet had you been in Peter Sitz's place when he was first taken prisoner,
your despair would likely have been as great as it seems to be now."
I knew that Sergeant Corney would say many things which he himself did not
believe, if he thought thereby he might strengthen my courage for the
terrible ordeal which was probably before us; therefore his words of
cheer had less weight than might otherwise have been the case.
Not until it seemed to me every square inch of my hands had been burned to
a blister, and there was a livid, red mark across my forehead, where an
old hag had scorched me with a burning brand, did the squaws tire of their
cruel sport, and then we were left comparatively alone, with sufficient of
pain to keep us so keenly alive to the situation that weariness of body
did not make itself apparent.
"We came to aid Jacob, and now ourselves are standing in need of
assistance," I said, bitterly, for this seemed like the irony of fate.
"True for you, lad, an' yet we won't look at it in that light. But for
marvellous good luck we would have been made prisoners before this,
therefore let us reckon it simply as the fortune of war, and not count
Jacob the cause of our trouble."
I would have replied yet more bitterly than before, but for the fact that
at the moment it so chanced my eyes were fixed upon the lodge wherein our
comrade had said his father was held prisoner, and I saw the flap pulled
cautiously aside.
Then the face of a man could be seen close to the ground, and I said,
eagerly, to my companion, who, perforce, had his head turned in the
opposite direction:
"Peter Sitz is lookin' at us."
"I would he had remained ignorant of our whereabouts," Sergeant Corney
muttered, and I asked, in surprise:
"Why?"
"Because, in addition to his own sufferin', he must believe that we've
been brought to this plight through tryin' to aid him, an' it only serves
to make his troubles greater, without lessenin' ours."
Sergeant Corney was rapidly becoming a hero in my eyes, for surely it is a
brave man who, when he stands in most imminent danger, can think rather of
others than himself.
We spoke but little from this time on, the sergeant and I. The rawhides,
which were tied so tightly as to nearly stop the circulation of blood,
were eating their way into our flesh, and the pain thus caused became
greater than the smarting of the blisters raised by the burning brands.
We knew that those who formed that circle of painted forms but a short
distance away were deciding whether we be put to torture immediately, or
reserved for some especial time of rejoicing, and there grew upon me such
a fascination as is sometimes brought about by keenest peril, until I
almost forgot the desperate situation as I watched those who held our fate
in their hands, trying to discover from the expression on their hideous
faces what might be the result of the conference.
As the moments passed I sank into a sort of apathy, until it was as if
some other lad's fate trembled in the balance, and I myself was looking
down upon the encampment from a secure place of refuge.
The fires burned dim. One by one Thayendanega's heathens stalked away to
his lodge, until the council was finally brought to a close; a deep
silence came over the encampment, as if all, save that white face which I
could see just beneath the flap of the lodge in front of me, and we two
who were bound to the tree, were wrapped in slumber.
"We can count on remainin' alive at least until to-morrow night," Sergeant
Corney said, as if imparting some cheering information, "for these
wretches do not torture a prisoner in the daytime."
"Unless some change is made speedily I will not be in their power, for of
a verity I am dyin', Sergeant Corney," I said, and he, thinking, of
course, to cheer me, laughed almost merrily as he replied:
"Nonsense, lad, you are a long ways from bein' dead. I allow your body is
numbed, but that's all. If these strips of rawhide were slackened a bit,
you'd soon find yourself feelin' as well as ever, save, perchance, for the
blisters upon your hands."
"If we _could_ stretch them a bit," I cried, trying vainly to change the
position of my arms.
"Ay, but you can't, lad, an' by makin' the effort you'll only cause them
to bind the tighter."
How that long night passed I cannot well say. The agony of mind, together
with the bodily pain, benumbed all my senses until I was like one in a
trance, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, save the gleam of that white
face beneath the flap of the lodge where Peter Sitz kept mournful watch
upon us.
The morning came, and like one under the influence of some hideous
nightmare I became aware that the savages were loosening the rawhide
thongs. Faintly, with but little curiosity regarding the matter, I
wondered if we were to be killed at once, regardless of the usual customs
of such wretches.
When the bonds had been removed the sergeant and I sank down upon the
ground helpless, unable to move hand or foot, and in that condition we
were dragged into the lodge where was Jacob's father.
There we were bound quite as securely and cruelly as before, the thongs
cutting fresh welts into our wrists and ankles; but the relief caused by
the change of position was so great that it seemed as if I had every
reason for thankfulness.
Here, when our captors had made certain we could not by any possibility
escape, we were left alone with Peter Sitz, and his first question was as
to why we had ventured within reach of the enemy.
Sergeant Corney, minded to save our neighbor from the self-reproach which
might be his if he knew we were in such plight through desire to aid his
son or himself, replied that we had been sent into the vicinity by General
Herkimer, and then explained how we came across Jacob, as well was the
manner in which we had been taken prisoners.
"Will they torture us to death?" I asked, giving words to that question
which had been uppermost in my mind from the moment we saw the painted
sneaks approaching the cave, and Master Sitz replied, with a painful
effort at cheerfulness:
"It's for you to believe that they won't, lad. Remember how long I've been
in their power, an' yet have come to no real harm, so far as life is
concerned, although this bein' trussed up like a chicken ready for the
roastin' is by no means pleasant or comfortable."
Then it was that Sergeant Corney, minded as I now believe only to change
the subject of conversation, asked Master Sitz why it was we had failed to
see him during the march from Cherry Valley to the Indian village.
The explanation was simple, and at the same time served to show, to my
mind at least, that Jacob's father would not be led to the stake.
It seems that when he was first captured, at the time Lieutenant Wormwood
was killed, he came face to face with Thayendanega, and that savage
recognized him at once, speaking in such a friendly tone that Master Sitz
immediately appealed for mercy.
The sachem declared that if he remained with the war party it might be
impossible to save him, and even went so far in his friendliness as to
explain that it were better he be sent ahead to the Indian village, for,
having once arrived at that place, there was little fear of the warriors
demanding his death until on some especial occasion.
Therefore, within half an hour after having been made prisoner, Master
Sitz was being hurried forward to Oghkwaga, under charge of two savages,
and was well on his journey before we started.
When, immediately after the interview with General Herkimer, Thayendanega
hurried his tribe on to join St. Leger's forces, he so far submitted to
the demands of his followers as to allow them to take Peter Sitz on the
war-path with them.
"More than once have the red devils insisted on torturin' me; but each
time Joseph Brant has prevented them, although I question if he could have
done so but for the unfortunate men who were captured in the battle with
General Herkimer's troops."
Peter Sitz ceased speaking very suddenly, and I had not the courage to ask
him how those prisoners suffered; I could imagine that they came to a most
horrible end, and knew that my worst picturing of it would fall far short
of the reality.
Then Jacob's father spoke of the possibility that we might escape with our
lives; but it was evident he did so with an effort, and I had it in mind
that he only tried to cheer me, while he was convinced that his end, as
well as ours, would come at the stake before the siege was finished.
And now I do not propose to make any effort at giving in detail all that
occurred while we lay cruelly bound, during a greater portion of the time,
in this lodge, situate almost in the centre of the Indian camp.
For eight days we were kept thus close prisoners, without a ray of hope,
and then came the unexpected.
At least once in every twenty-four hours, and sometimes twice, the bonds
were taken from our arms that we might feed ourselves on such food as
savages cast to their dogs. Perhaps thrice in that long term of captivity
were we permitted to walk around the lodge, and, save for that short
respite from our suffering, I believe of a verity we would have lost the
use of our limbs.
Half-starved, suffering oftentimes the keenest pangs of thirst, and
believing that all this torture was the preface to something yet worse, it
can well be imagined that we were indeed a sorry party. Even Sergeant
Corney ceased trying to animate us, for despair had seized upon him.
When we did hold converse among ourselves, it was usually regarding Jacob.
We had neither seen nor heard anything of the lad since the hour he left
us in the cave to get speech with his father, and it was to me wondrous
strange that he who had been so eager when there was but one prisoner, had
apparently lost all desire to render aid after two more had been captured.
During the first two or three days we believed he was skulking around
somewhere near at hand, with the vain hope that he might be able to effect
our escape; but as the time passed on it became certain that such could
not be the case, otherwise he would have succeeded in making his way to
the lodge, as he had done when his father was the only occupant of it.
So far as I could make out, there was no more vigilant guard kept after we
were taken than before, and the lad must have succeeded in getting speech
with us had he made the effort during those times when the savages gave
themselves up to dancing or feasting, as occurred at least once in every
eight and forty hours.
Then we decided he had gone in search of General Herkimer's men, thinking
to enlist a sufficient number of them in our behalf; but if such had been
the case we should have heard something from him, at least when eight days
were passed, and after that time we made no mention of the lad, believing
he had been discovered near the encampment and killed outright.
And now it must be understood that during all this time St. Leger's army
was laying close siege to Fort Schuyler, and, strange as it may seem, we,
closely confined in that lodge of skins, had a fairly good idea of what
was happening.
More than one of the Indians spoke English, and, not unfrequently, the
Tories or British officers came to visit Thayendanega in his own lodge,
when we could overhear a goodly portion of the conversation.
Thus it was we knew that Colonel Billinger and Major Frey, officers from
General Herkimer's force, who had been taken prisoners by some of the
British during the battle of Oriskany, had been compelled, under threats
of torture, to write a letter to Colonel Gansevoort, misrepresenting St.
Leger's strength, and advising him to surrender.
We also knew that this letter, written under pressure, was delivered by
Colonel Butler, who went to the fort with a flag of truce, and, when the
commandant flatly refused to surrender, the Tory officer threatened that,
in case it became necessary to take the fortification by force, the women
and children inside would be delivered over to the mercies of the Indians.
Fortunately Colonel Gansevoort was too brave a man to be frightened by
such threats, and when Colonel Butler told him that Burgoyne had already
taken possession of Albany, he became thoroughly well convinced that the
officer was deliberately lying to him.
At all events, he refused to surrender, and two days later General St.
Leger sent a written demand, the reply to which contained the emphatic
statement that it was Colonel Gansevoort's determined resolution with the
force under his command, to defend the fort to the last extremity.
We learned also, through different friendly visits which were paid to
Joseph Brant by the officers, that General St. Leger was continuing the
siege in true military fashion, advancing by parallels slowly but surely,
and it was the belief of all our enemies that they must of a necessity
soon succeed in their purpose.
The information which we thus obtained did not tend to make us feel any
more comfortable in mind. In case the fort was taken, the utmost we could
hope for would be to escape death, but at the cost of remaining, no one
knows how long, as slaves to the savages.
If, however, the garrison made such a resistance as we believed they
would, and then were finally overcome, the Indians being allowed to wreak
vengeance until their thirst for blood was satisfied, then was it probable
we would go to the stake with a goodly company and little chance of
escape.
However, I am not minded to set down here all our fears. One can readily
understand how many and great they were, and how we twisted and turned
each additional bit of information which we gathered by eavesdropping,
until it seemed as if matters which had no bearing whatsoever on our
condition were a direct and deadly menace.
I have said that we were eight days closely confined in this one lodge,
and then came the night when we were lifted from out the mire of despair
into which we had fallen, so suddenly as to make us literally dizzy with
hope.
During the afternoon of this day Thayendanega's warriors had spent their
time laying on an unusual quantity of paint, and arraying themselves to
the last feather of their finery, therefore we knew that something of
considerable importance was on foot. When they marched out of the
encampment, the medicine-men leading the way, with the beating of drums
and blowing of horns, we believed a council of war was to be held, in
which these wretches, most likely to tickle their vanity, had been invited
to take part.
When, just as they were setting out, the rain began to fall heavily and
the wind to blow in a manner which betokened a summer storm, I found the
wildest delight in picturing to myself the discomforts which would be
theirs unless St. Leger had tents sufficient to provide them all with
shelter.
At another time I would have given little heed to such a trifling matter,
but now it seemed of so much importance that I spoke to my companions in
misery regarding it, picturing the bedraggled condition of the fine
feathers after they had become thoroughly saturated, and was talking with
more of animation than at any time since having been made prisoner, when
suddenly a sound, as of some one scratching on the skin of the lodge,
caused my heart to bound until it seemed positive its furious beatings
could be heard a long distance off.
"It is Jacob!" I cried, speaking incautiously loud.
A warning hiss from Peter Sitz brought me to my senses, and in a fever of
suspense I listened for the sound which had first attracted my attention,
to be repeated.
The silence remained unbroken, save for the lightest rustling of the
skins, until, in the dim light to which my eyes had been so long
accustomed, I saw Jacob's head and shoulders inside the lodge.
It was only with difficulty I restrained myself from crying aloud with
joy, for now it seemed, even surrounded by enemies though we were, that
because my comrade had come were we rescued.